Читать книгу Cane Warriors - Alex Wheatle - Страница 8

4

THE JOB

Louis shook me awake. I opened my eyes and he pressed a broad finger to his lips. He peered out of the window and we could see the tops of the trees dimly lit by the plump moon. Mosquitoes buzzed around us. “Come, mon,” Louis said. “Let we step outside.”

I followed him through the door and we made our way to a tall tree. We sat down, resting our backs against the trunk. The insects in the fields were mighty loud this night. Strange birds squawked their squawks. Louis looked here and there before he spoke. We heard the distant crunching from the millhouse. “Moa,” Louis started, “you body good?”

“What do you mean if me body good?”

“You cyan’t bruk out if you cyan’t run good or if you cyan’t kill ah white mon when you need to.”

I swallowed spit, gazed into Louis’s eyes, and said, “Me body good, mon. Me cyan run as far as me need to and me cyan kill ah white mon. Me nuh have no problem wid dat.”

I did have a problem with that. Could me really kill ah white mon?

“Dat is what me want to hear,” said Louis.

“What is me job?” I wanted to know.

Louis checked over his shoulders. No one was about. I guessed there were overseers patrolling near the entrance of the plantation at the bottom of the hill. We couldn’t see them.

“Your job,” Louis said, “and Keverton’s job is to kill Misser Donaldson on Sunday night just after de sun drop.”

I didn’t reply. It felt like those big wooden rollers that Papa feeds the cane into were now grinding in my belly. Sweat drowned my face. My pulse banged my temples.

“Use your billhooks,” Louis continued. “Aim straight for de gut or de chest. Use two hands and dig deep. And then twist it like you meking ah fire. Mek sure he nuh breathe one dutty breath again.”

It took me awhile to answer. Kill Misser Donaldson? I guessed he might’ve asked me to run somewhere when de bruk-out start. My heart kicked my ribs and didn’t stop.

“But we have to put dem inna de sack when we finish work,” I pointed out.

Louis shook his head. “Not on Sunday you won’t.”

Sunday was only two dawns away.

Papa would never agree. He would say it’s not worth the agonies that will come to you.

But Pitmon never raised a hand or a fiery tongue to anyone until Misser Master troubled his daughter.

And Miss Pam was like a second mama to everybody but they just flung her in the pit after she dropped.

Me must lend me good foot and hand to de cause.

“Who’s going to kill Misser Master?” I asked.

Louis took his time in answering. “Tacky,” he said. “Everyting start when de sun tek cover behind de hills.”

“Me will dig Misser Master hole wid me own hands if me have to,” I said. “And fling him inside wid plenty chicken claw.”

“There will be no time to dig anyting,” Louis said. “We have to forward on quick-time to Fort Haldane. It’s by de blue waters. Tacky say dem have guns there.”

“Guns?” I repeated. “Dem tings dat fire quick deat’? Me remember me papa talk about it one time.”

Louis nodded. “Yes, mon. Dat is de plan. Now, return to you hut and catch some sleep.”

“Me cyan’t sleep now, Louis,” I said. “Me head full of tomorrow’s worries and de day after.”

“Me too,” Louis admitted. “Try to empty you head and sleep good.”

“Not yet,” I said. “De inside of me head nuh tired yet.”

“Then at least let you good body rest. It deserve dat.”

“No, Louis. Me have to see me mama.”

Louis shook his head. “Dat is outta de question. We cyan’t have any field slave going up to de big house—”

“Louis,” I interrupted, “me might not bless me eyes ’pon her again. Me want to say goodbye to her and me liccle sister Hopie.”

“If you get catch, Misser Master will ask why you want to see her ’pon dis night. And even if you give ah good answer, he will whip you for true.”

“Me won’t get catch, Louis. Me know de back way. Me know de hut where Mama sleeping.”

Louis thought about it and then shook his head again. “Tacky won’t like it. No, mon, me cyan’t let you do dis.”

“Louis, you mama dead and gone long time,” I said. “And when she drop down you never get ah chance to say goodbye to her. If you could tek back dat time, wouldn’t you want to say ah liccle someting to her?”

Glancing up to the heavens, Louis then closed his eyes. He looked like he was remembering something. He mumbled a few Akan words that I couldn’t understand. “All right,” he said, opening his eyes. “If you get catch and Misser Master draws for him back-ripper, you nuh know anyting about we bruk-out plan. You understand? If you tell him anyting, me will kill you meself.”

Louis’s eyes captured me and wouldn’t let me go for a long moment.

Misser Master’s back-ripper was long. Some said it was made of bull hide, bark slices, and horse neck bones. He also secured it to his belt and it dangled near to his feet.

“Me understand,” I said. “Me have to see her.”

“And one more ting,” said Louis. “If you get catch and Tacky ask question, me never give you no permission to go up to de big house. You understand?”

“Yes, mon, me understand.”

Louis checked this way and that and vanished into the Caribbean night.